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MAY RILEY SMITH 
Author of ''Sometime^' ''A Gift of Ge?itians,'" Etc. '^^^ 

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NEW YORK -N^^SHISS: 

Anson D. F. Randolph & Company 



West Twenty-third Street 



OOPYHIGHT, 1887. BY ANSON D F. RANDOLPH i CO. 



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I 

Ojy LITTLE elbow leans upon your knee, 
^ Your tired knee, that has so much to bear ; 
A child's dear eyes are looking lovingly 
From underneath a thatch of shining hair. 

Perhaps you do not heed the velvet touch 

Of warm, moist fingers, folding yours so tight ; 

You do not prize this blessing overmuch. 
You almost are too tired to pray, to-night ! 



II 

rjprUT it is blessedness ! A year ago 
^-^ I did not see it as I do to-day. 
We are so dull and thankless, and too slow 
To catch the sunshine ere it slips away. 

And now it seems surpassing strange to me, 
That while I wore the badge of motherhood, 

I did not kiss more oft and tenderly 

The little child that brought me only good ! 
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Ill 

PQ^ND if some night when you sit down to rest, 
^ You miss this elbow from your tired knee; 
This restless, curling head from off your breast, 
This lisping tongue that chitters constantly : 

If from your own the dimpled hand had slipped. 
And ne'er would nestle in your palm again ; 

If the white feet into their grave had tripped, 
I could not blame you for your heart-ache then ! 
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IV 



3 



WONDER so that mothers ever fret 
At Httle children clinging to their gown ; 
Or that the footprints when the days are wet, 
Are ever black enough to make them frown ! 



If I could find a little muddy boot, 

Or cap, or jacket, on my chamber floor ; 

If I could kiss a rosy, restless foot, 

And hear its music in my home once more ; 

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V 

3F I could mend a broken cart to-day, 
To-morrow make a kite to reach the sky, 
There is no woman in God's world could say, 
She was more blissfully content than I ! 

But, ah ! the dainty pillow next my own 
Is never rumpled by a shining head ; 

My singing birdling from its nest is flown ; 
The little boy I used to kiss, is dead / 
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